Hanging By A Thread
by Actress2b
Summary: Paul Langley never got a chance to recover from his past. When the pain floods back to him, the last person he expected to be there was June Whitam. Some Rhris incorporated into the story and disregards actor's plans to leave that are still currently here
1. Prologue

'I just don't get what ye'r on abou'.'

Colline, strode ahead of Jason, stormed along the small pathway, reminding herself to slowly breathe in and out. Part of her wanted to contain her emotions and avoid causing a scene; but another just loved the attention.

'What I'm on abou', Jase, is tha' ye can't jus' show me attention when ye feel like it. I jus' dunno what I can do to get ye attention at times.'

Jason felt like throwing his hands up in the air. How can he not give her enough attention? Colline has made herself very hard to ignore throughout their three month relationship. Every second, she's there. Jason was beginning to wonder when she would just handcuff them together. At least he would then have an excuse to tell his friends as to why she _never_ left him alone.

Racing ahead to come to her side, he demanded, 'Babe, you always 'ave my attention…'

'Don't act it.'

'Can't, can I? I'm tired from work, and what not. But believe me, I'm always thinkin' of ye.'

This seemed to soften Colline slightly, but not nearly as much as he was hoping for. She still seemed angered, perhaps even hurt. Was it too much to ask him to just leave his work? No, not even she could ask him of that. He wouldn't be able to buy nearly as many gifts for her if he went and pulled a stunt like that.

'If ye…' Colline trailed off as she looked ahead of her, Jason soon following her gaze. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a foot poking from the turn off to a small alleyway. 'Is someone takin' a nap, there?'

Walking further on, Jason cracked a smile. 'You think the bums would at least choose decent spots, wouldn't ye?' However, his smile faded when he turned. '_Shit._'

Colline looked up in alarm. 'What is it?' She attempted to approach him, but he just pushed her back and said, 'You have your mobile with ye?'

'Course.'

'Then call the police.'

'What is it, Jase?'

Looking blankly at her, he just breathed out, '_Shit.'_

'Jase?' Colline fumbled for her mobile.

'I think she's dead.'

And it seemed as if the entire street had become still.

* * *

**A/N: I know this is an extremely short prologue, but it'll have a purpose further on in the story. Please read the next chapter before you pass a permanent judgement! **


	2. The Beginning, An Original Start

_Earlier that year... _

_You don't even need A Levels.  
Perhaps not in Tescos, but it's worth a try, all the same.  
__You have better things to do.  
Like sit around in the chippy, waiting for my mates?  
__You won't -_

'Stop it,' chided June Whitam to herself. 'You're bloody doing this, whether you like it or not.' And with that, June threw the stub of her cigarette to the ground, firmly trod on it, and stepped through the gates of Waterloo Road.

Everywhere she turned, memories were flooding back. Blonde hair smoothed back into a loose ponytail, June was bracing herself for the year to come. Many in her year was probably not expecting her to be back, if they bothered to listen to her declarations. She was even partly surprised. Her mother had already arranged for her to get work down at the garden centre, and it wasn't like the school begged her to stick around. But nonetheless, come September, June was making sure her jumper was ready and that the soles of her black shoes were fully intact. Perhaps it was because she thought she was better than what she was giving into, or she just wanted to be able to sleep on a Saturday morning, but either way she was there.

'JUNIE!'

_Spotted_. Rushing towards her, almost leaping, was June's close friend Dawn Cummings. Her spindly legs almost looked like they were gliding along the Earth, and with a final jump, she collided with June, squealing, 'I _knew _you'd come back.' Dawn turned around, almost in a military position and shouted, 'I told you.'

Lucy Drake, still leaning at the wall, rolled her eyes and replied, 'I didn't say she wouldn't come back. I just think that making a card that congratulates her on being back is a bit much and perhaps overoptimistic.'

'Do you think the card's too much?' Dawn retrieved a folded piece of paper from her bag. 'It wasn't like I had revision to do, or anything.'

Taking the letter, June smiled tentatively. 'It's wicked, Dawn. I'll give it a look over later, OK?'

Dawn grinned, demanding both June and Lucy to link arms with her. Soon beginning to walk towards the entrance, Dawn asked, 'What subjects are you taking, then?'

'Don't know. Wasn't taking any a couple of weeks back, so far as I was concerned.' June really hadn't given it much thought to it. Probably English Literature, as it was the only subject she actually got an B in. Chemistry, purely for the honour of Mr. Mead. But the other two just came like blanks. She wasn't much into Maths, but wasn't going to touch Food Tech either. 'Any of you taking French?'

'No.'

'OK, me neither then.'

'You can't choose because of that.'

'Yes I can.'

'No you can't,' insisted Lucy. 'We're not going for identical futures here. Lipsit isn't a complete monster. You'll live with her.'

'Could get Haydock,' pointed out Dawn.

Laughing, June answered, 'There is no chance that they're going to give a sixth form class to Haydock.' Remembering her GCSE years, June was quite frankly surprised that she even passed the subject. Miss Haydock managed to coast through teaching them with her usual sly grin and the knowledge she had received from _Amelie_. The only reason that June got anywhere in that subject was because her mother insisted on tutouring her in the subject to the point where the word '_encore'_ makes June's very skin crawl.

'Watch out.'

June fell to the ground as a football swarmed past her head. Pushing herself up, June looked towards the guilty party, namely Bolton Smilie and Paul Langley and groaned. 'I should've gone into the gardening trade.'

'They're gone in a year,' said Dawn helpfully.

'There still here for a year.' It wasn't that June necessarily had anything against the pair - she hardly knew them. But every time she had encountered them, they had done nothing but display their blatant immaturity and angered her in one way or another. Worse still was that they were connected to Michaela White, who spent an entire year calling June a 'dog' in year eight. Needless to say, they had certainly had left an impression on June, and one that she was not prepared to shed.

'There's only one thing to do,' declared Lucy. 'Shag him.'

'What?' June, gasping in mid laughter, pushed Lucy at the side. 'You're mental.'

'I see nothing wrong with it. Look at him.' Lucy's gaze moved towards Bolton. 'He's fit as.'

'And how many girls have tried it on in the past?'

'Shows that he's attractive to the majority, is all.'

Dawn smiled sheepishly. 'He once asked me to kick a ball back, for him.'

'I remembered that. You tripped, didn't you?'

Smiling faltering, Dawn mumbled, 'That was a completely unrelated incident.'

June continued to pester her friends about what subjects to go for right up until they registered themselves down, June asking for words of reassurance one more time while her pen hovered over the sheet. English Literature, French, Chemistry and History. As June stared at her timetable, she was becoming more and more aware of how much of a mistake this was. She hadn't even taken History at GCSE, and she had completely forgotten Chemistry. French would hopefully be fine, but even English Literature was beginning to seem like more of a problem. It was all pointing in one direction: failure. Nobody else seemed nearly as paranoid as she was. Either they were confident enough with themselves, or they really just didn't care.

Untying her hair, June let her hair fall to her shoulders, taking a strand and twirling it around her finger. She had hoped to quit the nervous habit, but desperate times called the desperate measures, and she should really put more effort into quitting smoking anyway. Her hair began to wrap around her index finger at a rhythm that almost reminded June of knitting. It was soothing, comforting, and it wasn't going to give her cancer. June finally let her hair go, but not before muttering, 'Shit,' under her breath and turning towards her first class. By this point, she had lost Lucy and Dawn entirely, who were both heading off to Textiles with a defeated expression in their eyes.

* * *

Paul sat in the common room, eyes shut tightly and his foot tapping against the edge of the sofa. It was the first day of school, and he didn't technically need to be there yet. Even if he didn't have much to get back to, he was hoping that at least he would have thought to bring something entertaining with him. Finally entertaining himself with his own thoughts, Paul began to drift away, so close that he could feel himself moving into the deep depths of slumber.

Almost.

The door slammed open, and Paul's eye lids slightly fluttered open, but it was the voice that caught his attention. It was new, feminine, but unattractive - manic. As he turned his head to get a better view, the girl appeared to almost be tugging at her honey blonde hair.

'Chemistry... what the hell?' she moaned to herself. Paul's eyes felt wary, but that wouldn't have changed his view of the girl's appearance. She was plain, undoubtedly, and perhaps a little plump. There was nothing about her, bar her tendencies to speak to herself, that should catch Paul's attention in anyway. Once again, he turned in the other direction and hoped to actually get some sleep before he had to head off to English.

However, June had other plans. Slamming her bag down onto the table, June began to rummage through her items, pulling out her text books and allowing them to also fall down onto the hard wood. 'Where... is...' Her hand aggressively hit her thigh over and over again, as if it would aid her search. Finally, with a cry of glee, she pulled out what seemed to be a scrap of paper. By the time she had unfolded said piece of paper, Paul was sat full upright and blatantly staring at her. June, finally catching onto this, slowed down what she was doing and looked at the sheet in a helpless manner, quietly saying, 'My timetable...'

Paul did not offer a reply, but instead turned away and reassumed his lying position. He was too tired and didn't care nearly enough to actually do something about the girl. June stood still, momentarily offended by the act, but soon shrugged her shoulders and assumed her work. If he didn't accept the response, or expect an apology, than she was clearly doing nothing wrong. It was hardly as if Paul hadn't ever bothered her. It was the complicated cycle of things, which June was to use as an excuse to be as loud as possible and she double checked for her pencil case, her planner, her mobile and keys. She then emptied the entire contents of her bag and sprawled them out along the desk, rearranging them in a careful manner. Paul began to clutch the edges of the sofa; this was war. For Paul to win, he was now required to remain utterly motionless and appear to not care about June's actions; and it so it was from then on.


End file.
